


Respite

by Wing



Series: Ficlets and things [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sick Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sickfic, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wing/pseuds/Wing
Summary: He was feeling all the ignored effects of his efforts to suppress his ailment. He didn’t even know his head could throb so hard.or: Obi-Wan is just a little unwell.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Ficlets and things [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904329
Comments: 16
Kudos: 123





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

> I'm...just going to stop thinking and post this asdhflsa covers face
> 
> Just another…(self indulgent) sickfic to add to the pile. I’m sorry.

Obi-Wan clutched his burning chest as he coughed violently into his pillow to muffle the sound. A mildly concerning rattling sound in his chest was pushed to the back of his mind as he wheezed to catch his breath. He licked his dry lips quickly deciding he was feeling rather too weak to get up to get water, but also too nauseous to actually drink.

He had been stifling his sniffles and coughs the last few days in the presence of all the dignitaries and his master during these crucial negotiations for a treaty to operate on occupied land. It was delicate and full of high emotions. Oftentimes, the talks had gone around in circles and drew late into the evening and night as the deadline approached. Obi-Wan had made sure to thread carefully, but exhaustion was high and he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. 

It started as a mild sore throat and a lingering ache in his bones two days into their mission and then a slight cough, chills and a pounding in his head—and although he could not avoid it, it didn’t mean he couldn’t _ignore_ it. 

“Are you okay, Padawan?” Qui-Gon had asked on the second day but Obi-Wan had chalked it up to exhaustion. They really hadn’t been sleeping much the last few days and in retrospect, he knew it was the perfect storm for illness.

But Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to ignore it for so long. The talks had just dragged on; he had no choice. 

It was to no avail in the end though. Qui-Gon had found out in a lapse of concentration. Being the last ones to leave the conference room tonight, he had stood up too eagerly, too fast and an intense spell of dizziness had overcome him as they were leaving. He couldn’t quite remember a moment or two in between, but he had somehow sat down again and Qui-Gon’s hand was suddenly on his back; his concerned eyes were peering down at him. He really couldn’t use his tiredness as the only excuse any longer. 

But, “I’m fine,” he had forced out around his aching throat and trembling limbs he had tried to still, while avoiding Qui-Gon’s inquiring gaze. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I must have gotten up too fast. I just want to get back to our room and rest.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help the slight pleading tone his voice had taken on. He was _exhausted_. That was no lie. 

Qui-Gon had reluctantly acquiesced to his surprise.

Obi-Wan was sure no one else had figured out how under the weather he was feeling and he intended to keep it that way. It would just be an unwanted distraction from the importance of the mission and another reason for the high court to think that he was too young to handle the responsibilities he was given, that his presence there was not necessary. He just needed a good night’s rest. And maybe a healing trance. 

But right now, even as he laid stock still, his limbs continued to pulse with over exhaustion. Shuddering under the two blankets he had over himself, he suddenly wished he had brought his cloak into his room too. It was as if, now that his master knew how unwell he was, his body had just stopped cooperating. 

Tomorrow was another full day and he desperately needed to get over this...little ailment but even the wall was tilting in his line of view. He was glad he was already horizontal. He closed his eyes.

Obi-Wan just needed to put himself into a light healing trance but his grasp of anything, including his concentration of the feel of the Force was unfocused. He could do nothing but lie there, breathing. 

He was just drifting off when he heard the front door open and shut but decided he didn’t have the energy to get up for _anything_.

“Obi-Wan,” his master was at his door, in what seemed like a moment later. He wasn’t too sure if he had just dozed off again or not. “May I come in?”

He tried to affirm but he was sure that all that came out was a groan.

Qui-Gon must have taken that as a confirmation and Obi-Wan heard the door slide open, the sound of a glass settling on his bedside and then he felt a dip in the sleep couch before his master’s familiar large, _blessedly_ cool hand slid over his forehead, probing, scanning.

“That’s quite a temperature.” He could hear the frown in his master’s voice. “You may need medical attention. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“‘Will be fine,” Obi-Wan groaned hoarsely after a moment, too tired to answer the question, hoping to be excused, hoping to draw no censure tonight. Even his voice was giving out. He was feeling all the ignored effects of his efforts to suppress his ailment. He didn’t even know his head could throb so hard.

“Drink some water,” Qui-Gon coaxed, but Obi-Wan didn’t move. Everything indeed hurt too much to move. He was so tired... 

He might have nodded off temporarily, to his embarrassment because he jolted slightly when his master’s comforting hand stroked his cheek gently and he spoke. Obi-Wan felt utterly confused. What was going on? What had they been talking about? This was no good. He tried to drag his heavy eyelids open. 

“Come now,” he felt his master’s arm around his shoulders lifting him into a sitting position which left him sagging against Qui-Gon limply. The room spun nauseatingly and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips. It wasn’t this bad before. It wasn’t this bad earlier in the day.

Even with his eyes closed, his head was spinning. “Not thirsty…” he breathed out as the cool rim of the glass was pressed against his heated lips. He couldn’t even raise his hands to hold the glass. This was incredibly embarrassing even when he wasn’t thinking straight. 

But the water felt really nice. Another prompt of the glass tipping into his mouth left him taking a tentative sip, if not for the coolness it provided but for his master’s sake.

“I know we have been busy today and you’re tired, but you need to eat something. I want you to drink some soup in a little bit.”

“‘Not hungry,” he mumbled. “ _Nauseous_ ,” he admitted.

“Drink some more water. It will help,” Qui-Gon urged him with another nudge of the rim of the cup. He hadn’t moved from where he was curled against Qui-Gon’s side. He was very warm. “You haven’t drank or eaten anything today. You’re dehydrated.” 

Obi-Wan obediently took another sip but his stomach churned to the beating in his head and he bit down on the bottom of his lip with a small moan. 

The glass disappeared and he could feel that he was being gently lowered back down; the absence of his master’s warmth was missed, but he felt himself drifting off again until something cold and wet pressed against his cheek and forehead. “Wh-what…?” His blue eyes hazily peeked beneath the bottom of his lids in confusion. Qui-Gon’s face swam in his vision and he almost recoiled if it weren’t for the fact he had no strength to.

“Hush, just to soothe your fever a bit. I will help you into a healing trance in a moment. When you wake up, you _will_ eat something.”

“Yes master, thank you,“ he stumbled over the words, but grateful for his help. A gentle fond tug of his braid was all the reply he got. 

They lapsed into silence for a moment as Qui-Gon soothingly ran the cool cloth over his face and neck. It was rhythmic and quiet enough for Obi-Wan to slip into sleep but something else nudged at his consciousness; something important. “Mas’tr...what ‘bout tomorro’?” he slurred without opening his eyes. 

He could hear Qui-Gon smile. “Focus on the present, padawan.”

Obi-Wan breathed out, managing only a slight shift of his head. At present, everything _hurt_.

“I want you to wake me if you feel worse. If your fever isn’t lower by morning, you will be seeing someone.”

“Mm.” He managed. He had brokered enough words today. 

“You did well these past few days. Get some rest.” Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon’s fingers threading through his hair soothingly and a brush of a hand over his chest as the pain lessened. His ministrations were putting him to sleep, or maybe it was a sleep suggestion. He wasn’t sure…

“Be well, padawan.” 

And Obi-Wan knew no more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading...this. ~~I have a longer sickfic that I am writing. I wonder if I can finish it. _I wonder if I have the courage to post it hahah_~~


End file.
